shadows
by mattapod
Summary: Sometimes, Katrielle wakes up and finds herself thinking of her father. Sometimes, Ernest notices. But rarely, either of them voices it. (A collection of short, short passages about Katrielle.)
1. shadows

Katrielle found herself in the same setting, chasing the same thing, desperately crying in her dreams again.

Her father was clouded by mist, a shadow receding, and was quick to disappear once Katrielle seemed like she reached him. The girl spun immediately, having long practiced chasing her father in her dreams. Just as she expected, her father's hat disappeared the moment she saw it.

Katrielle felt a bead of water caress her cheek.

It was her tears.

She blinked them away, feeling her feet pick up their pace. Her throat vibrated, indicating that she was now yelling.

 _It'll be over soon._

Hershel Layton ignored her screams and continued.

He didn't stop.

He kept walking.

And was then gone.

* * *

"Lady Layton…? Are you alright?"

Katrielle snapped her eyes towards Ernest, her head as motionless as ever. With a huge sigh, Katrielle slapped a smile on her face in seconds and stretched. Sherl apathetically averted his head away from Katrielle, his ears drooping in boredom.

"Ah, it's so boring! I wish we would have a case soon…" The blue-eyed girl straightened up, heart pressing down on the melancholy that has plagued her since the morning. She planned to bear the burden alone. Not Ernest nor Sherl needed the heavy package, and Katrielle wouldn't have been willing to share it to them anyways.

Ernest furrowed his eyebrows. He pursed his lips, studying his employer to the closest detail; even her rosy cheeks required analysis. Something was off, but Ernest couldn't pinpoint it. He never could. This wasn't the first time that Katrielle seemed a bit less bubbly than usual.

"Ernest, keep staring like that and your eyes will dry up. Am I that entrancing?" Katrielle teased, a lopsided smile tugged at her lips. However, her eyes remained stoic.

The assistant blinked a few times before averting his eyes away. He felt a strange bubble of… of whatever feeling in his chest. It was almost as if Katrielle had just lost a loved one. Ernest sucked in a small but sharp breath.

 _Oh._

As Katrielle rested her chin on her hands, about to crash from boredom, Ernest saw a shadow of longing and desolation reflect off the window the girl was staring out of.


	2. everything i didn't say

_I miss you, Dad._

 _Do you remember when you would take me and Alfendi on a trip to the tailor's shop, just to watch your hat get brushed up?_

 _I do. And I miss that._

 _Where'd you go?_

 _You used to say every puzzle has an answer. Does this one, too?_

 _I'm starting to think that you deliberately left us for no reason. I used to think that there must've been a reason. I used to believe that every puzzle has an answer. Now, I'm not so sure anymore._

 _Please, come back and change my mind._

* * *

A sigh escaped the girl's mouth as she shut the little booklet. Katrielle dropped her pen, tears welling up in her eyes, covering her sight with a wavering sheet of water. The girl didn't dare blink, for blinking would mean that the tears would fall. She has to be strong, for her father, Ernest, Sherl, and everyone around her. She wouldn't ever let anything discourage her.

Of course, she's had to maintain harder facades and tell worse lies.

Katrielle rubbed her eyes with her sleeve just as Ernest walked in with a tray of tea. The green-haired boy set down the cup just as Katrielle pretended to yawn. She didn't reach for the cup like she usually would've.

"Have you been… crying?" Ernest blurted, noticing the tear stains on Katrielle's sleeve.

"Oh, you're silly, Ernest. People always cry when they yawn," Katrielle smartly replied. Ernest tilted his head and muttered an "oh."

"Lady Layton, if you would excuse me, I'll be off to get some groceries."

Katrielle waved him off. "Go, go. I've told you a million times before that you didn't need permission to leave."

* * *

 _I love you, Dad._

 _Did you know that?_

 _I did, and I still do._

 _Why'd you_ have _to leave?_

 _I wish I could've made you_ stay, _if only I knew you'd be gone and never come back that day. I would've told you everything I've written down here, everything I thought, everything I didn't say._

 _It's too late now, isn't it?_

* * *

Late in the night, with only a candle to keep company, Katrielle sobbed. Tears dripped down her cheeks, staining her booklet. The ink spread until the page became mottled with blotches of black.

Katrielle let her lies come back and bite her in the heart.

She wasn't fine.

She wasn't fine at all.


	3. autumn leaves

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" Katrielle yelled, loudly clapping her hands while walking towards Sherl. The old dog lifted an ear and opened an eye, but expressed no intention to move.

Katrielle stood silently, counting down ten seconds. Once the ten seconds were done, the girl snapped, looming over the old, apathetic dog. She reached for a book on the sofa and, without mercy, smacked Sherl over the ear. That, at least, made Sherl budge, even if it's only a few centimeters away from the couch. Katrielle, having finished her job with Sherl, walked over to the window and pressed her palm onto it, craning her head to look at the pavement outside.

"Really? Was that absolutely necessary?" Sherl groaned, sluggishly getting to his feet and sulking around. Ernest, having witnessed everything upon entering the room, chuckled good-naturedly.

"Lady Katrielle, your tea." Ernest offered, setting the cups down on Katrielle's table. The girl, however, seemed to have other things to do than sit around and drink tea.

"Ernest… " Katrielle called, a mysterious grin creeping onto her features. The girl remained turned towards the windows. "Let's go out for today. I need to pay a visit to Inspector Hastings."

"Oh? What for?"

"The case of the phantom thief, Sein. He's still hung up on that, that good ol' inspector." The brunette turned around to face Ernest, her arms spread in a flamboyant manner. "So, what'd you like? Want to come with me to get some fresh air, or would you like to coop up in here with this old-" Katrielle playfully gestured towards Sherl with her foot, "-dog?"

Sherl growled. "Will you please stop calling me old?"

Katrielle raised an eyebrow. "But that's exactly what you are, isn't it?"

A moment of silence passed between the girl and the dog before the latter huffed, climbing back to his place on the couch. Katrielle whined and shooed Sherl off the couch. Ernest glanced out the window, silently watching an autumn leaf drift down slowly, swaying as it fell.

 _It is quite nice out there…_

"So!" Katrielle clapped, regaining Ernest's attention. The boy smiled.

"I think I'll come with you, Lady Katrielle."

* * *

Ernest watched Katrielle waltz around on the sidewalk, kicking up leaves as she went. Today, Katrielle seemed a lot less… grounded by her own thoughts. The girl seemed to be flying with excitement for something that Ernest just couldn't pinpoint.

"Lady Katrielle, what might it be that you're so ecstatic about?" Ernest asked, picking up his pace to catch up with Katrielle.

"Ernest, look around." Katrielle paused, "Don't you think the way that the leaves fall makes one want to prance around? The red and the gold and the orange… It's therapeutic to just look at and much more sanative to be able to touch it."

As the words left her mouth, Katrielle reached out and caught a falling maple leaf out of the air. She rubbed her thumb over it, a content yet somber smile gracing upon her lips. The brunette spun towards Ernest, holding out the beautifully colored leaf.

The things running through both of their minds, at that moment, were the same, but yet completely different.

Katrielle held out the leaf, her mind's eye watching her ten-year-old self performing the exact same actions to her father. She smiled wryly as she saw her father pluck the golden leaf out of her tiny hands. She kept up her smile as the memory faded and she was left with nothing but stabbing melancholy.

Ernest took the leaf out of Katrielle's fingers, a grin spreading on his face. He imagined Katrielle as a child, doing the same to her father. A sudden warmth spread throughout his body as imaginary Katrielle hugged her father's legs, being that she could only reach his legs.

To Ernest, the leaves were all elements of nostalgia.

To Katrielle, the autumn leaf was nothing but a receding, fading image of a top hat.


	4. strawberry shortcakes and cherry pies

A/N: This would make much more sense if you've watched ep 9 and 10 of the Lady Layton anime

* * *

"After all, we are talking about his dear daddy. No matter how long they are apart, there is no way to forget."

Ernest perked up, a frown coming upon his features at Katrielle's glistening eyes. _That was…_

* * *

The sour smile would never leave his head. It had plagued Ernest's mind since long after they solved that case, and now that Katrielle's received a lead from Rosa, the somber expression became more prominent than ever.

Katrielle hadn't been sleeping well. No matter how happy she acts, Ernest could tell, from all the little actions to her daily expressions, that his beloved employer wasn't as well as she claimed.

In the past week, Katrielle didn't tease Sherl as much as she had done before.

Yesterday, Katrielle forgot to turn off her office's lights.

This morning, she left her tea untouched and only drank it when it ran cold.

Ernest felt he _had_ to do something. It pained him to see Katrielle so focused and apathetic. He just wanted her to be happy.

* * *

"Ernest, what's the occasion? You're never this eager to go to Lipski's shop," Katrielle commented, brushing her hair onto her back, "And it's about to rain. Ernest, you really pick the worst times to go out!"

Ernest smiled, poking Katrielle. "The fact that it's about to rain is exactly why it's better to go out now. We can peacefully enjoy the goods inside, while chaos is happening outside." The assistant pushed into the shop, holding the door for Katrielle like a true gentleman would.

Katrielle sucked in a huge breath, closing her eyes to enjoy the scent of baked goods. She glanced towards Ernest, who had made his way to the counter already. _Was he always this gentlemanly?_

Ernest waited until Katrielle caught up with his, putting her hands on the glass display. He silently hoped he wouldn't screw this up. Impersonating Hershel Layton is not something that Ernest is familiar with.

"Lady Layton, which cake do you think we should get?" Ernest asked, dark irises peering at Katrielle out of the corner of his eye.

"Hmm… I don't know, Ernest. Everything just seems so good!" Katrielle put her hands together and straightened up to look at Ernest, anticipating his choice.

"How about this, Miss, that we choose the most popular cake in this shop?"

Katrielle's heart stopped beating for a split second. A wave of nostalgia washed over the brunette at Ernest's words, and it made her wonder if he was doing this on purpose. There way only one way to find out, was there?

"So, in theory, the sweet cherry pie there," Katrielle pointed to the pie at the center of the display, "Because it's at the direct center?" Her words elicited no response from Ernest, but instead a small grin. _She caught on._

"That… would be incorrect, Miss. Look behind the counter." Ernest waved at Aleks Lipski, signaling him to open the fridge in the back.

"After all these years, the most popular cake is still the strawberry shortcake?"

Aleks Lipski scooped out three cakes from the fridge. "Of course, Miss Katrielle. Our strawberry shortcake is very good, you know?" The baker handed a box to Ernest and Katrielle, nodding to the two. "My treat."

Ernest thanked the baker, turning back to Katrielle. He held out his arm, and for the first time, Katrielle noticed and took it. "Shall we head back, Miss?"

With a last glance at the exact spot her father stood, the detective nodded and started out.

* * *

Katrielle stared out the window, the reflection of London rain glistening in her eyes. She finished her strawberry shortcake while waiting for Ernest to come back with some tea.

For some reason, she started to enjoy Ernest's company a little more.


	5. welcome home

Since his family fortune crashed and he and his mother were forced onto the streets, Ernest had never found the Richmond mansion welcoming. The soot-filled alleys of London seemed all more homely than the spectral palace the assistant was standing in.

Yet, Ernest could never leave this house alone.

Ever so often, the assistant finds himself wandering to the door of the Richmond mansion and stepping in with whatever will he had to face his history. The first thing that always hits Ernest is his crippling foolishness in seeking revenge. Of course, it was because he didn't know his family's full history, but it wasn't an excuse that can placate his self-loathing.

Ernest's hand tightened on the steps' railing. It was almost as if he was dragging himself up the stairs, heart heavy like stone.

The polished stone and marble seemed to glare into his soul; his self-esteem had never been so broken.

* * *

"Ernest still hasn't come in today, hm, Sherl?"

Katrielle set her tea tray on the table, a warm breath of air escaping her lungs as she sighed. Glancing at the old dog out of the corner of her eye, the brunette hummed.

"Of course. You don't hear an overly eager voice now, do you?" Sherl said, as sarcastic as ever.

"And you're not at all concerned?"

Sherl lifted his ear, eyes narrowing as if surprised that Katrielle would ask such a question. "Well… yes, just a little. But I presume Pinstripes's just off somewhere taking a break that he certainly deserves. I wouldn't worry too much if I were you; after all, he'd come around sometime today. I trust him enough."

When Katrielle did not respond, Sherl scrambled up with his four meaty legs and trod over to the pensive brunette. Katrielle's eyes seemed to dull as she sank deeper and deeper into thought. At some point, around five minutes in, Sherl started to fidget in disconcertion.

"Hey, you're not, er, shutting down or anything like that, right?" The old dog piped up, "Kat?"

"Oh, no, of course not," Katrielle said mildly. She turned back to face her desk, paused for a few seconds, and headed out the door without saying another word.

"Kat! Where're you off to now?" Sherl barked, chasing behind the brunette. He squeezed out of the closing door and nearly missed getting a face full of green mahogany. "Kat, wait up! You can't just leave me in there!"

* * *

Sherl didn't bother looking up at the Richmond mansion; his flabby dog body wouldn't permit him to take the sight all in, anyway. Katrielle had stayed absolutely silent the whole way from the agency to the manor, not uttering a sound since she left the house. It wasn't very Sherl to be worrying about the detective, but he did. It was disconcerting, to say the least; not to mention how Katrielle hadn't teased the dog, made a blunder (like she often would, though Sherl wouldn't consider this a bad thing), or even smiled.

"This is where Ernest is," Sherl asked, jerking his head towards the entrance, "I'm guessing?"

"Mmhmm," Katrielle hummed in response, and nothing else.

"Do you actually know, or is it just a gut feeling again?"

"Gut feeling." And with that, Katrielle started into the mansion, leaving Sherl behind yet again.

"Doggone it, I swear you need to slow down."

* * *

 _'Ernest Shockleton, Surprise Explorer_ \- Richard Greeves'

The assistant didn't stop his tears as they fell. His hand slipped off the book he was holding and he dropped to the floor. He was stupid, so stupid…

Stupid enough to not jerk away when something unknown came upon his shoulder.

Ernest's mind was running on depression, and he went with what was happening outside. If something was going to consume him, so be it; at that moment, Ernest felt as though there was nothing else to live for.

"Now, now, Ernest. I don't think your mother would've enjoyed seeing you like this, would she?"

Katrielle was standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile upon her lips. She had ordered Sherl to stay outside, knowing fully well that there wasn't a need for a third party in this kind of situation.

"Miss-miss Layton?" Ernest managed through a series of desperate sniffles in attempt to clean his face. "I- I didn't hear you come in…"

"After the wreck I made of your plans… I'm surprised you don't hate me," Katrielle continued, ignoring the snot-filled mess Ernest was making, "It's quite a nice room. Simplistic, but not too bland. I can almost imagine a baby you running around in here."

"I-"

"Calm down first, Ernest. I don't think I can understand you right now," the detective chuckled. She moved to sit down next to Ernest, her shoulder lightly bumping his. "It's time to come to terms with what you've done - or rather, tried to do. I must admit; it was a nicely schemed plan. Took me some time to figure out."

"But you did, in the end. You never fail to amaze me." Ernest replied, his earnest voice exhibiting twinges of bitterness. After a few more sniffs, he spoke up again. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself."

"That's fine. From what knowledge I have about you, you'll never forget this, and it'll prove to be of great use later on. I just know it."

Katrielle fell silent along with Ernest. She brought her knees up and rested her chin against them. Ernest seemed to have stopped crying, which prodded Katrielle to continue talking. "Sadness doesn't really suit you, in my opinion. I like you much more when you smile."

Ernest blinked, snapping his head towards the brunette. He couldn't find the right words to say, so instead, he decided to splutter. "I-what? M-miss Layton…?"

"To you, this place doesn't seem quite as welcoming as it would've been 18 years ago, hm?" Katrielle changed the topic, her mind leading the conversation down a clear-cut path.

"Y-yes. Yes, that's right."

"It doesn't have to be welcoming, Ernest. You already have a home elsewhere, you should know."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, miss."

With a tiny smile, Katrielle turned to face Ernest. She took his hand and placed it on her chest. "Right here, Ernest. With me, Sherl, and the residents of Chancer Lane. There's your home. You don't _have_ to tie yourself down because of what you've done. Everyone's forgiven you, and it's time for you to, too."

The thermostat must've turned itself on, for Ernest suddenly felt like his chest was burning with comfort, admiration, and most importantly, Katrielle's love.

* * *

"Come on, Ernest! We've got things to do!" Katrielle called, prancing down Chancer Lane towards the agency.

"You mean," Sherl corrected, "He has dog work to do for you."

"And you might just get some _human_ work, Sherl."

Ernest chuckled, a wide grin spreading across his face. Katrielle's words rang inside his head. _Right here, Ernest. Here is your home._

Just setting his hand on the door of the agency washed the assistant with a warm welcoming embrace. Ernest stepped in, and as he was closing the door, Katrielle waltzed over and whispered with a certain sense of fondness:

 _"Welcome home."_

* * *

 **This took quite some time to write, but I feel Ernest should get some attention as well.**


	6. a rainy conundrum

Its rhythm was like the beat of her heart, its color a reflection of her mood. Crystal clear, but transparent enough to see the gray of the sky above.

Katrielle had told Ernest and Sherl to stay in, while she herself grabbed an umbrella and headed out for no good reason just to end up straying to a bench by the Thames. The brunette hadn't a second thought in her mind as she sat down, regardless of how wet her dress would be after her stay; in fact, she hadn't a single thought in mind.

It was as though the London rain washed her brain away, leaving the only thing that matters to her the soft pitter-patter of the rain in the river.

* * *

"Where'd ya think that lass is off to, huh?" Sherl piped, breaking the silence between him and Ernest.

As Sherl's gruff voice cut through the silence, Ernest felt a small irritation scratch at somewhere deep inside his head. He could almost understand why Katrielle so often told Sherl to "shut his doggone snout" on days like these. It felt like a knife had just been stabbed into a freshly baked pie, twisted in a circle, and pulled out just as roughly as it had been stuck in, spraying pieces all over in the process.

In short, Ernest's serene mood was just thrown out the window into the muddy pavement.

"I don't know, Sherl," Ernest fought to keep back a biting remark, "Miss Layton can be… unpredictable sometimes."

"You mean, all the time." Sherl retorted, making a sound that fell between a grunt and a snort as he pawed his snout. Really, it seemed to Ernest that the dog had just recently gotten more… dog-like.

Just as Ernest was about to go back and enjoy his rainy day in, a certain inspector bust the door to the agency open, inviting himself inside without any consent. Rainwater stained the carpets where Inspector Hastings stepped, but whatever that came out of the inspector's mouth stopped Ernest from commenting on it, for it wiped every thought from his mind.

"Ernest! I-I think Katrielle's about to throw herself into the river! I've no idea what happened to the lass, but I found her standing by the Thames like she was about to jump in. Hurry! We've got to stop her!"

* * *

Ernest didn't mind that he was soaking wet, nor did Sherl or Inspector Hastings. Katrielle was nowhere to be seen, and the three of them were clinging onto the small hope that she had just wandered off to somewhere else.

"Miss Layton!"

"Kat!"

"Katrielle!"

There was no response, just the rain splattering on the ground. Ernest rubbed his forehead in distress, shaking his head as he muttered, "No… we're too late. I should've asked her what was wrong today, I could've stopped her."

"Pinstripes, don't give up! She might still-" Sherl stopped himself, howling with regret, "Oh, who am I kidding? She's gone, she's gone, that Kat!"

"Now where did I go, Sherl? And what are the lot of you doing in the rain like this?"

The trio froze. Katrielle stood behind them, a warm apple pie in hand, unscathed and confused. Ernest was the first one to react, and he turned around slowly, fruitlessly trying to conceal his tomato red face.

"Uh, Miss Layton! There you are! We… ah…" Ernest desperately searched for an excuse, "We were trying to find you to tell you that erm…"

"M-my wife just brought over some lemon cake, and we thought you'd like to know," Hastings cut in, adding an awkward laugh that gave everything away.

Katrielle frowned, glancing at Sherl. The dog hadn't said anything until now, and the brunette had expected him to pipe in every single chance he got. "That still doesn't explain why you were all standing soaking wet in the rain. Sherl?"

"This smart-snouted inspector saw you by the river and thought you were going to jump, so he grabbed all of us to come to look for you."

The detective blinked, eyes darting between the three to confirm that this wasn't a joke. Katrielle then burst out laughing, somehow still magically holding her apple pie upright with her twisting and turning.

"You-you thought I-what? I just went to get an apple pie from that vendor there," Katrielle pointed to an empty spot on the road, paused, then frowned, "Well, he was just there. Anyways, I went to get myself a snack and-and you thought I-I can't believe you three!"

"It was the inspector's fault," Ernest muttered. Although he wasn't normally one to point fingers, his embarrassed brain told him that it was the right thing to do.

"And you-" Katrielle moved her arm to point at the inspector, "You decided to get my assistant and this old dog instead of talking to me?"

"I…" Hastings started, scratching the back of his neck, "You know I don't always make the best decisions, Kat."

Katrielle reached up to flick the inspector's forehead. She stepped towards Ernest, holding her umbrella out for the red-faced assistant.

"And, I bet you rushed out without a second thought because you believed him, hm?" The detective asked, chuckling when Ernest turned crimson. She pecked her assistant oh his cheek then pulled him along towards the bridge.

"I appreciate your worry, but really, I might just jump off the bridge because of this."

* * *

 **i was feeling quite weird and giddy today, and this is what came out :-P**


	7. moonlight

He thought she didn't see his gazes, but she noticed them all the time. He'd always assumed that she was oblivious, never sparing him a second thought. He was scared… but she knew his feelings from the start.

Katrielle had never teased one person so much in her life, but it was the only way she felt most comfortable expressing her emotions. It was the only way she could _hide_ them. At night, when her feelings would manifest themselves in the form of guilt, she would let her hand linger on the telephone, the first nine digits of his number typed out, but the next day she'd just go back to ruffling his hair and making puns with his name.

Katrielle had never felt so much fondness for one person in her life since her father left. She was afraid… afraid that he would leave her one day. Everyone leaves her, eventually, and as much as Katrielle hated to admit, there wasn't a day that she didn't think about her missing father.

Yet each day, she was getting closer and closer to uncovering the mystery that her father left her. Each day, she was getting closer and closer to unraveling her own feelings towards those around her.

Maybe she'll be able to do her feelings justice.

* * *

"Lovely night, isn't it?"

The stars seemed to blink in response to Ernest's words, compensating for Katrielle's silence. The brunette stared up without a word, yet her eyes were elsewhere, carefully glancing for posture and meaning.

"Sure it is, Ernest," Katrielle decided to reply, breaking the silence. She paused for a second before realizing that her reply was equivalent to saying nothing, but she couldn't think of anything else to say except for a few trash words. That was basically what her feelings were made out of, wasn't it? A few garbage emotions smudged together to make something less than concrete, but concrete enough to make her _feel._

Yet again, Katrielle knew exactly how Ernest felt. She saw his glances, his subtle slouches when she acted oblivious, and the hopeless look that the moonlight seemed to shine out. The detective felt her heart throb once, twice, and she opened her mouth to-

"You're just like the moon."

Katrielle blinked, tearing her eyes away from the night sky to meet Ernest's olive ones. "S-sorry?" She blurted, desperate for a better response to the incredibly spontaneous statement. The brunette found none.

Ernest gave her a crooked smile, his cheek twitching with the suddenness of it. "There are some… unspoken things that the moon always conveys. She's always there, though often hidden behind a cloud. Her light always shines through. Say," the assistant turned back to face the sky, "It's because of her that the nights aren't pitch black, right, Katrielle?"

Ernest never used her first name. It was always Miss Layton or just Miss, never _Katrielle_. A pang of _something_ jolted Katrielle's body, making her feel as if her heart had just stopped. It wasn't a bad feeling. She could get used to it if she wanted to.

Katrielle kept silent and placed a hand on her heart. The grass was olive under the moonlight and glistening with dew, which reminded Katrielle of a color that she had recently taken a liking to; a very specific color that the detective always felt comfortable gazing at. Glancing back up at the sky, she silently listened to Ernest prattle on with his analogies while letting her heart beat along his steady flow of words.

"The sun's far away, but he gives the moon his light. The moon knows that the sun will always be there for her. She knows that the sun will never rise without her retreat, and she can never shine without his concession. They compromise."

 _They compromise_. That's all it was between them, wasn't it? Their relationship was a compromise: Ernest would stay as Katrielle's assistant and in return she…

There wasn't much that she had ever done for him.

 _The sun will always be there for her._

An imaginary hand took her heart and squeezed it to the brink of explosion. And yet, Katrielle said nothing.

There isn't much that she could do for him.

"Well," Ernest said, a quick outlet of breath that sounded more like a sigh than a statement, "We should head back. The sun'll rise soon, and Sherl is probably wondering where we are. He's still traumatized by that false alarm a few days ago." The assistant paused, dusting off his pants and grinning once again at the moon. Without saying anything else, Ernest started off the hill, bouncing along with a certain happy skip that was specific to only him. Katrielle started after him, her mind blank save for the boy before her.

Katrielle thought Ernest had no idea she was gazing at him, but Ernest noticed all the time. He took note all the fear in the purposeful distance she kept between them, all the hesitance her posture, and all the hurt in her beautiful, yet somber hazel eyes.


	8. let's go away for awhile

"Why don't we stay out here for a while?"

Ernest never spoke his mind so directly. He had always tried to worm his way around what he wanted to say in fear of sounding too demanding; thankfully, Katrielle understood. Most of the time.

However, it seemed that recently Ernest had become a lot more confident in himself. And while Katrielle wouldn't necessarily call that bad, it was certainly weird for her to see this side of Ernest. There were still instances when he looked to her to confirm what he said was alright, but compared to the first time she met him (when he was a stuttering mess who needed saving), the instances had decreased a lot. She constantly wondered if Ernest himself realized this positive change. It was good for him, Katrielle finally decided, to be able to express himself so.

"What about Sherl?" Katrielle thought of Sherl sitting like a pancake on the bed and immediately snickered. There wasn't really a need to worry about the old dog, but Katrielle wanted to seek out what Ernest really meant, and Sherl was a pretty good excuse to use.

"I don't think he'd mind if we were gone a little longer," Ernest glanced towards the direction of their cabin, "It's our first time on the SS Midas Touch. Wouldn't you want to explore it, Miss?"

This wasn't what Katrielle had imagined when she first received the invitation to join the Seven Dragons on the recently recommissioned the Midas Touch. There wasn't as much excitement as there was on the Thametanic, but cruising along the sunset in a gentle breeze was enough.

With Ernest by her side, it was more than enough.

* * *

"Now, let us all toast, to the recommission of the Midas Touch, and to Christmas!"

Fullhold laughed. "Christmas? That seems a bit early, Kat."

"Oh? Well…" Katrielle trailed off, feigning innocence, "One can never celebrate Christmas too early!"

The crowd chuckled, and with their glasses raised, toasted to Captain Pullman's dream come true, Mustafa Fullhold's generosity and forgiveness, and of course, Katrielle's claim of an early Christmas. Ernest found himself facing a grinning detective as he sipped his drink, faintly aware that he couldn't get drunk. For one, he'd be the one driving when the ship docks at who knows what ungodly hour, and plus, he'd rather not embarrass himself.

"It's quite a night. Clear skies, sparkling stars, and a smile as bright as the moon," Ernest started, glancing at Katrielle, who wore a soft, longing smile. "What is the lady thinking about tonight? One shouldn't be feeling forlorn amongst such revelry."

Katrielle chuckled, turning her head to face Ernest. The assistant was struck by how genuinely happy she was. _It's been a long time._

"Well, _you're_ awfully poetic tonight," the brunette looked back at the glistening ocean, "I'm quite warmed by your words, but perhaps it could be attributed to the wine."

Ernest grinned and laughed loudly, breaking from his gentlemanly stature. "Of course."

Katrielle's hair whipped in the wind, occasionally cascading down her shoulders and resting there awhile until the next gust of wind picked it up. Ernest fell silent, averting his gaze to the horizon, a soft smile gracing his lips. He let his actions speak for him as he put his hand atop Katrielle's on the railing. Surprised, she turned towards him, yet he wasn't facing her.

He kept his eyes on the horizon as he spoke, "He's somewhere out there, waiting to return home. I know you know it."

"You know I hope it," Katrielle replied, her tone a little distant, as if she was slipping into a dream.

"I know you know it," Ernest repeated, with just as much conviction as he had the first time. He heard Katrielle sigh, but moments later, she hummed in response. A small part of her knew.

A gentleman never abandons his family.

* * *

 **it is never too early to celebrate christmas. if you'd like to celebrate christmas with me:**

 **what are you doing new year's eve - scott bradlee's postmodern jukebox**


	9. merry christmas, love

Katrielle never really felt a burning passion for working. It was a common misconception that she didn't like her job (no, she loved being a detective very, very much) because of the way she often acted when she got a case. Needless to say, her incessant whining and tendency to stray off course when sweets were present did just the opposite of showing her eagerness to investigate cases.

Yet, now that Ernest was earnestly begging her to stay inside away from the biting winter weather and the ("Oh, Miss Layton, it's going to pour and you'll be soaked!") sky, the detective felt more inclined than ever to stomp out into the London streets to Madame Doublée's mansion.

"Miss Layton…" Ernest tried once more, though he was nearly defeated. Katrielle sighed, though she wore a smile and was not angry or tired of her assistant's spontaneous antics. The detective began to wonder if somehow Sherl had possessed Ernest when the dog was even ready to stroll out without major complaints.

It was only when he decided to tug on her coat like a child when she stopped leaving. "Ernest, are you alright?" Katrielle asked out of genuine concern. She knew that her assistant could be immature at times, but she had never seen him in such a… manner. She couldn't find the word, for even infantile seemed to be an understatement. Ernest's mind seemed to have turned back twenty or so years and she became his mother instead of his employer.

"I just-uh…" Ernest glanced out at the sky, "Don't think it's quite a good idea to go out there."

"Yes, I do understand that. You've told me countless times," Katrielle retorted, an amused smile creeping up her lips.

Sherl groaned, trudging over to Ernest and shoving him towards the door with his snout. "Suck it up, Pinstripes. I didn't get to stay in when I wanted to, so you don't either. Kat, let's go. The fun-sized woman will be waiting for us. As per usual, she probably expects 'perfect attendance' from us."

Katrielle chuckled, smoothing out her coat. She reached for the umbrella and flinched when Ernest's arm shot out from behind her. The assistant sheepishly slid in between her and the umbrella stand. He waved his arms around in an aimless manner, stuttering as he desperately tried to come up with a reason.

"Ernest, we need to leave-" Katrielle began, but was immediately cut off by her assistant.

"No!" Ernest clamped his hand over his mouth, then continued feebly, "I mean- uh… look! It's snowing, Miss Layton. We can't work in this weather!"

His words did the exact opposite of persuading Katrielle to stay in.

"Perfect!" Katrielle exclaimed, "London never snows! What a day to work in, wouldn't you say, Ernest? This must be a sign for us to go outside today."

The assistant choked on his own words while watching Katrielle open the door and prance out. He sighed, glancing at the gift he hid in the kitchen before shaking his head and following the brunette out into the light snow.

* * *

Ernest could tell Katrielle instantaneously regretted her decision when the soft snow turned to a downpour of water around noon. She had winced out of one of the thousands of pink windows at Madame Doublée's mansion and sighed, grumbling at the capricious weather.

"I feel like I'm wearing wet clothes," Sherl complained, slapping water onto Ernest's pants as he shook the rainwater from his fur. Shuddering, the dog scuttled between Ernest and Katrielle into the agency. A trail of water dripped behind him.

Katrielle halfheartedly thanked Ernest for holding up the umbrella while she rubbed the soot off of her shoes. The assistant spun the umbrella before closing it and stepping inside. He dropped his blue coat off on the rack, next to Katrielle's brown one, and immediately went into the kitchen to brew a kettle of tea. Sherl had begun snoring the moment he settled onto the warm, red carpet.

When Ernest came back with a plate of tea, he was surprised to find Katrielle scribbling away frantically at a piece of paper. He had expected her to be setting up the record player (although a vinyl disc was already spinning as a jazzy Christmas song rang out) or to be chewing away at the strawberry shortcake he bought last night. The detective sucked in a sharp breath and flipped the paper over to its back, smiling at Ernest as he set down the tea tray. She made her way over to the couch to pick up a cup of warm earl grey.

"D'you like the song? Not many have this album, partly because they don't appreciate it enough to get it. Personally, I think jazz is perfect for this weather, and this holiday, for that matter." Katrielle commented softly.

Ernest nodded. "Yes, I do quite agree. Speaking of holidays, I've something to gi-" His sentence was cut off by the bell. "I'll get it."

The door opened to a soaked Inspector Hastings with a box of cake. The inspector grinned, shoving the box into Ernest's hands.

"Lemon cake for you two!" He chirped, then ran off into the pouring rain. The assistant stood still in shock for a few seconds before closing the door slowly, as if unsure of what just happened. Katrielle chuckled at the inspector's spontaneity while he set the cake on the table.

"That-just… Okay."

Katrielle laughed. "We both know that's something he'd totally do. And he did it."

"I suppose," Ernest muttered, glancing at the clock. "It's ten already?"

"We better close the agency soon, then. No one likes a bright light late into the night, even if it's Christmas." Katrielle stood, patting off her dress. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Good night."

Ernest smiled and was about to return the goodbye before he felt the gift he got Katrielle sitting in his pocket. He scrambled up and towards the coat rack, stuffing the gift into the detective's coat pocket and reaching for his jacket as a coverup. The girl raised an eyebrow at his frantic manner but said nothing as she opened the door.

Just as she was about to step out, Katrielle spun back around and hugged Ernest tightly, then opened her umbrella, leaving like the wind. The assistant blinked, and although the freezing weather was biting at his body, he felt hot.

He shut the door, locking it behind him. His umbrella shot open swiftly and sprayed rainwater onto the already wet pavement. The pouring rain accompanied him to his house a few blocks down.

Ernest's hand struck a piece of paper in his pocket as he searched for his keys. He took it out, squinting under the streetlights to make out beautifully written cursive.

 _Merry Christmas  
_ _Love, Katrielle_


	10. light a candle

It was rare that Katrielle ever failed to cheer herself up after something unfavorable had happened. Normally, she'd take it as it was, seeing as it had already been done and nothing could've stopped it (or even if something could, it didn't, so what's the purpose of lamenting over that?), and moved on with her life unbothered.

It was way too rare that a cup of tea couldn't cheer her up from whatever doldrums she fell into, and even more so since it was Ernest's tea. That was why when she continued sulking after a sip, her brain reacted and screamed that something was wrong, while her body ignored it.

Katrielle couldn't remember the last time she felt so bitterly angry. Her morning was filled with mishaps that she couldn't control, and her afternoon was even worse. First, the stove had shut off at three in the morning, leaving her to shiver for two more hours before she couldn't take it anymore. She then proceeded to scale the stairs for at least ten times, going up and down until she felt warm enough to sit on her couch, which turned out to be freezing cold as well.

At approximately seven, the postman rang her doorbell. Katrielle had looked outside and felt sorry for him, as he had to trek through the whole neighborhood handing out mail in such freezing and blustery weather. Of course, she'd have reserved her sympathy for herself if she was clairvoyant. Anyway, she had slipped on her coat and opened her door, ready to receive the tea leaves that she had ordered, but only to find the postman bolting off to chase a little brown box that looked like her tea leaves. Katrielle stood still, watching as the box bounced on the road, under a car, over a lamp, then finally as it threw itself into the Thames and sank like the Titanic. She had assured the postman that she could do a few days without tea.

In a weather like that, no shop would've been open. Well, obviously, no shop _was_ open. So, Katrielle, being the chef that she was, toasted bread and ate it with jam for brunch. It was a sad sight, a girl sitting alone in her kitchen, eating bread on a plate. But don't let this sight fool you, for if she wanted to, the girl could cook like a Michelin star chef. She just didn't want to. Yes, that's all.

Sure, it was only a matter of spontaneity. Everything horrible that came after, what with her ramming into a pole because a branch flew into her face, thinking that she forgot the keys to the agency at home and having to trek back only to discover they were in her bag all along, those were all things she couldn't have prevented as they were spontaneous. At least, that's what Katrielle told herself. It made her feel better, but clearly not enough, for she was still sulking, still bitter.

Even her tea tasted bitter.

"Ernest," she started, "Does the tea taste a bit weird to you?"

The assistant frowned. He poured himself a cup and drank it, then his head. "No, miss. Why? Has your cup gone bad? I'll pour another-"

"No, no need." Katrielle cut him off, then continued sulking, glaring at the window.

"Miss?"

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." No, clearly not.

Immediately after Katrielle's thought formed itself, a loud snap, almost close to a crackle of lighting, sounded. Sherl jumped up, sniffing the air for whatever reason as if he thought the crack came from oxygen and nitrogen colliding with each other.

Then, the agency turned pitch black.

Katrielle was not even surprised that the lights shut off. She uttered a four letter word that could be used as a noun, a verb, an adjective, an adverb, but most importantly, an auxiliary for anger.

"I hate the dark," she grumbled, "Today's been the worst."

Somewhere in the darkness, Ernest chuckled. The laugh exerted more force on a string that was about to snap. Eventually, the string broke into two pieces.

"What now?" Katrielle growled, the whole day's mishaps bubbling in her chest.

She heard shuffling, more shuffling, a clink, then silence.

"Ernest?"

Sherl snorted in response.

"Not you, you old dog."

"Well, I wasn't responding to ya."

"Shut up."

"Whoa. Someone got off the wrong side of the bed today?"

"Shut up."

Another shuffle sounded, then a howl.

"Pinstripes! Careful where your foot lands!"

"Sorry!"

Katrielle called out again. "Ernest?"

"Yes, miss?" The assistant responded.

"Where'd you go?"

A small burst of light told her the answer. "The matches were in the kitchen, miss."

"Ah."

Ernest brought the flames to a candle. He locked eyes with Katrielle, then smiled as bright as the flames burned.

"Sometimes it's best to light a candle than curse the darkness, miss."

Katrielle's mind registered his words as senseless small talk. Then, after thirty seconds, she realized what he was referring to. A small smile graced her lips despite herself. She breathed a laugh.

"Of course, Ernest. Of course."

* * *

 **anyone catch the discworld reference?**


End file.
